


Pour Myself a Cup of You

by shatteredwriters



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: A Meet Cute in a Coffee Shop, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, M/M, Very very fluffy, mash au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26773105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shatteredwriters/pseuds/shatteredwriters
Summary: A modern coffeeshop AU that no one asked for.
Relationships: B. J. Hunnicutt/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Pour Myself a Cup of You

**Author's Note:**

> So I guess I write AUs now...lol. This just popped into my head and begged to be written. Short, tiny, itty-bitty AU to satisfy my fluffy needs. Enjoy!

B.J. Hunnicutt always sticks to a schedule. He’s consistent and dependable and never does anything unexpected. Which is why, on this rainy Saturday afternoon at precisely 1:15 p.m., he enters his local coffeeshop, orders the same drink, heads to the same corner in the back, and sits in the same seat.

He likes the routine. Entirely predictable, but also comforting to a degree. It provides stability to his life when all else around him feels chaotic and uncertain. If it isn’t broken, why fix it?

The non-fat latte in front him is finally the right temperature, and that first sip is heavenly. Zach, the weekend barista, always makes fun patterns in the foam for him. With a smile, B.J. notices that today’s is a heart.

A light blush tinges his cheeks as he grabs the book he’d brought with him. _Letters to a Young Poet_ by Rainer Maria Rilke. It had been sitting on his overflowing bookshelf for about 6 months now, and he finally, _finally_ , had the time to read it.

Settling back into his favorite chair, B.J. opens the book with the thrilling anticipation that accompanies the beginning of every new story. A virtually empty coffee shop, the rain keeping travelers and passersby to a minimum, the muted sounds of the city hushed by the storm, the wonderfully soothing smell of fresh coffee.

B.J. could not have planned a better afternoon.

The coffeeshop door flies open with a loud crash and B.J. very nearly drops his book in surprise. Annoyance is evident in his expression as his eyes search for the offender who rudely interrupted his practically perfect afternoon.

_How inconsidera—Oh._

Whatever else he had been thinking disappears; in its place dominates stunned silence.

The most beautiful man he’s ever seen is standing right _there._ Tall, dark, and handsome, the stranger is huddled just inside the door, rainwater dripping from his coat and plastering his jet-black hair to his forehead. He stamps his feet a few times on the rug as he rubs his hands together. Turning to ensure the door shut firmly behind him, the man appears satisfied and twists back to face the coffeeshop. There’s an amused light to his sea-blue eyes, a magnetism about him that draws you in and steals your breath from your lungs. B.J. recognizes objectively that he’s staring, but he really couldn’t help it. Or stop if he tried. He is utterly transfixed by this unknown visitor who turned his routine Saturday afternoon coffee run upside down.

B.J. observes as the man rakes a hand through his hair and walks towards the counter, exuding casual grace and polished confidence. This is someone who can dominate a room, can captivate audiences of one or hundreds, is comfortable anywhere and with anyone.

Desperately, B.J. tries to turn his attention back to his book, but finds he can’t read more than a few words before his eyes slink up off the page and over to the dark-haired man. B.J. watches as he brings a thoughtful hand to his chin, perusing the menu. He asks Lexi, who’s manning the register, a question about their “drink of the day”. Doing his best not to eavesdrop, B.J. stares back down. _It’s impolite to stare,_ he reminded himself.

But now both Lexi _and_ Zach are talking to the stranger, their tones lively and very loud. B.J. grinds his teeth, becoming increasingly exasperated by the level of noise, the incessant interruptions, and this disruptive turn of events. Unwittingly, his gaze finds its way back across the coffee shop. Zach is turned towards the espresso machine, making whatever the man had ordered, while Lexi has thrown her head back in laughter. The stranger’s gorgeous smile in response sends B.J.’s heart into overdrive. Flustered, he finds himself somewhat envious of Lexi at that particular moment, jealously wishing they could trade places.

_Stop staring. Seriously stop. Like right now. No staring. None._

He internally rolls his eyes before setting his still unread tome down discontentedly. He’d just wait until he, whoever _he_ was, left. Once that door shut behind the back of the incredibly attractive man, B.J. could finally focus on Rilke’s words and enjoy his afternoon in _peace._

“Here you go, friend!” Zach offers sunnily, sliding the steaming travel cup across the counter.

The man offers another heart-stopping smile.

“Wow, thanks! The service here is impeccable. I’ll have to come back, at the very least to see that smile of yours again, Zach.”

Coffee in hand, and the barista blushing, the stranger takes his leave. He tosses another flirty comment over his shoulder to Lexi, who giggles behind her hand.

B.J. watches this all with thinly veiled annoyance. The coffee cup nestled in his two hands is now lukewarm which is just the icing on the cake. He takes a sip as the stranger reaches the door, using his back to push it open.

Before he does, the dark-haired man finally makes eye contact with B.J.

Those hooded blue eyes are alight with flirtation, one corner of his mouth upturned in delight. It’s like he knows B.J. has been staring at him since he walked in the store. Neither one says anything, and the look doesn’t last more than a few seconds.

In a parting gesture, the stranger throws B.J. a coy wink and whisks out into the storm.

Much less gracefully, B.J. chokes on the gulp of latte he’d just taken.

His coughs send coffee shooting inelegantly on to his book and the table, making quite a mess. Cheeks blazing a brilliant shade of crimson, B.J. dabs at the spilled and spluttered drink in a desperate attempt to at least save his book, as his pride was done for already.

_That…that infuriating insufferable stranger! Interrupted my afternoon, loudly might I add, and made me spill my drink! All over the first few pages of this new book, too. What a stupendously terrible ordeal…_

But as B.J. finishes wiping up the last of the coffee from the table, he finds he’s not _that_ annoyed. There was something about that man. He…intrigued him, grasping at the coattails of his curiosity and beseeching him to track him down in the middle of the rainstorm. An invisible force pulling him nearer. Gravity, an undertow, some force of nature.

The door is firmly shut and the man is lost amidst the torrential downpour. B.J. will probably never see him again. He tells himself he doesn’t want to, and he almost believes it. With a sigh, he looks down at his now cold latte and coffee splattered book. What had started out as another perfect afternoon was now discombobulated, spoiled, transformed. B.J. finds the coffeeshop a little too quiet. He picks up his things and returns the coffee mug to the counter.

He’ll try this again tomorrow.

And B.J. still isn’t sure whether he wants that man to interrupt his afternoon again or not.

Said stranger is now walking down the sidewalk, head bent into the wind and rain. He’s thrilled that there is a coffeeshop just a short walk away from his new apartment building. But he can’t even pretend to himself that that is the main reason he stopped today.

_He was just going to pass right by when he’d seen him sitting in the corner. He’d skidded to a halt almost comically, transfixed._

_And so, he’d waltzed in and flirted with everyone in sight, except the one person he’d wanted to. Purposefully avoided looking at him. Toying with him. He’d known immediately that the man was staring at him and relished in the attention._

_Before leaving, he’d finally looked at the man. Caught his gaze with a smile. Those crystal blue eyes absolutely stole his breath away. With a cheeky wink, he’d left._

_Outside, he turned back once to catch a final glance of the man. He was pleased to see that his wink had flustered him; he was spluttering his coffee and dabbing paper napkins all over his book and himself._

The memory of it shoots a warmth throughout his chest that dispels any semblance of the chilly fall day from his bones. As he reaches the entrance to his apartment building, he can’t contain the lightness to his step and the smile spreading across his face.

He’s already decided the first thing he’s going to do tomorrow. That coffeeshop looked like just the place to bring a pile of books and his computer and spend all day drinking coffee and relaxing. He didn’t have any furniture in his apartment anyways, but that wasn’t the real reason.

_Hopefully he was there._

He knows that he’d sit there all day waiting if he had to.

Because there was just something about him.

It defied any and all reason, logic, or explanation.

Call it what you will. Maybe it was fate, maybe even destiny. The man didn’t know if he believed in those things.

But one thing was very clear in Benjamin Franklin Pierce’s mind: tomorrow, he’d go back to that coffeeshop and find the light-haired stranger.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all liked it! (:


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